Created on Tuesday, 28 October 2008 Written by BCOkay. I’m starting to get tired of the questions about my hair — namely the tail on the back of my head. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not offended, I’m just tired of answering the questions. In fact, the last question came from Nigle Standley at church Sunday. It was something to the effect of, “Hey, what’s the deal? Is your barber blind or something.?” Then came that classic Nigle Standley chuckle. I had to laugh too. After all, it was Nigle.
So, since I turned around to explain how I got this ever-growing tail on the back of my head I figure I might as well explain it to all of you readers out there who happen to run into me and wonder, or are already wondering if I’ve lost my mind, and to my coworkers who have made remarks as well — some to my face and some behind my back. But hey, I have a great sense of humor and I’d love to hear everyone’s opinion of my new, but temporary look.
To begin with, it was three months before I knew the tail was even there. That’s because my sister, Connie, cuts my hair and when I told her I was going short last March she really didn’t like it. So she left a tail that I knew nothing about. Think about it: How many guys grab an extra mirror to look at the back of their head. Not me, that’s for sure.
But eventually my son Danny said something about it, … no, actually he really got on my case about it and how much he hated it. It was embarrassing to him in fact. Gina hates it as well, if not more than Danny. But Danny’s opinion of my haircut struck a chord, mainly because I couldn’t understand his reasoning. I see men his age with mohawks, bald heads and pink hair, but I never hear anything from him about that.
So I decided to cut it off, that is until he got his deployment orders four months ago from the Army who is sending him to Iraq on Dec. 7. So the tail is staying, or at least until Danny returns from Iraq for good. Unharmed, that is. And the first thing I’m going to give him (after a big hug) is a pair of scissors. Then he can do whatever he wants to my head. I figure by the time he gets back after 400 days in the desert sand my tail will be at least 12 inches long or more. I’ll even braid it for him just to make him want to cut even more.
But you know what? I don’t really care what anyone thinks about my hair.
Hey Danny! When I got my hair cut last week Connie told me my tail is now four inches long. If this is a little something — call it incentive — to make you watch out for your you-know-what while you’re there and come home safely, in one piece, … alive, then I’ll even dye the thing hot pink and orange just to provide that little extra motivation in your honor.
At least then I’ll know for a fact you’ll come home safely. I know you’re upset about my new look and all, but I can only hope when you do come back to cut it off you’re not A.W.O.L.